


The Unforgivables

by cruisedirector, Dementordelta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Aurors, Dark Magic, Discipline, Eventual Happy Ending, Extended Families, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Muggle Life, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Reconciliation, Severus Snape Lives, Sex, Sex Toys, Snarry-A-Thon20, Spanking, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dementordelta/pseuds/Dementordelta
Summary: Harry thought he was entitled to use an Unforgivable Curse here or there. After all, he was an Auror. But someone familiar, someone he missed, seemed to know exactly what he was up to.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 20
Kudos: 197
Collections: Snarry_a_Thon20, Your Cruise Director's Love Boat





	The Unforgivables

**Author's Note:**

> Harry doesn't stay very dark for very long, sorry! Thanks so much to writcraft for beta!
> 
>  **Prompt:** 32, Dark!Harry -- The Wizarding world might still be blind to it - for now - but Severus could see the darkness brewing in Harry from miles away. And he always was drawn to dark magic...

It was meant to be just a brief _Imperio_ , not enduring for many long minutes like the ones Harry had used in Gringotts to get into the Lestrange vault. And he was sure Hermione would have approved, though he had decided not to risk getting her in trouble by telling her every time he used an Unforgivable Curse, since Hermione was officially obligated to report the use of such curses. Shacklebolt had restored the ban without consulting with the Aurors or the Wizengamot, which Harry found rather authoritarian, like several other Shacklebolt decrees.

It wasn't as if Harry used Unforgivables very often -- not more than once a week, or maybe a bit more frequently if he thought he'd uncovered a nascent group of dark wizards. And it wasn't as if he did it for his own enjoyment. He'd been tasked as an Auror with keeping other wizards safe. Sometimes a momentary _Crucio_ could distract a potential criminal from doing something much worse than a little Unforgivable, and teach an important lesson. Of course, Harry couldn't tell Neville that or Neville might start sobbing about his parents, and Ron wasn't sharp enough to notice what Harry was doing most of the time. But the Ministry had complete confidence in Harry, so where was the harm?

Plus, it wasn't as if there was still a wizard alive who was capable of stopping him. With Dumbledore and Voldemort both gone, there was no one who could really see through Harry Potter. Hermione had warned him that wasn't necessarily true -- she kept telling him that people simply didn't want to confront him, as most of them were a bit afraid of him after his rumored return from the dead. Hermione didn't defer to Harry, but she was busy with other things most of the time, and everyone else went out of the way to accommodate him, even the Malfoys. 

Maybe, as Hermione had snapped once, it would have been better if Snape had been around to put Harry in his place occasionally, but Snape had died without leaving so much as a portrait behind for Harry to strut and brag and perhaps occasionally wank in front of. So it came as an enormous shock when, as he whispered the incantation to cast the Imperius Curse, Harry's wand flew out of his hand and a disembodied voice that sounded very much like Snape's announced, "They're called Unforgivable Curses for a reason."

"What?" demanded Harry, retrieving his wand while the would-be thief he'd been pursuing fled Knockturn Alley as fast as he could run. "Who said that?"

"As usual, you prefer breaking the rules to learning to use magic properly," the voice added. It definitely sounded just like Snape. "This isn't like stealing someone else's Potions notes."

"I didn't _steal_..." Harry began hotly, but the voice was gone. He could feel it, though he looked behind water barrels and down alleys and even behind rubbish bins before he returned to his pursuit of the hapless thief, who had, of course, disappeared. It made Harry cross for the entire afternoon, particularly since the voice's stern lectures had left him rather breathless and aroused.

Two days later, he had come across a pair of young wizards tormenting a rat, repeatedly turning it into a ball of shiny foil for a cat to chase, then back into a rat whenever the cat lost interest. His wand was out and his lips were forming the Cruciatus Curse to show them how it felt to be tortured when his wand flew straight up in the air and the Snape-voice roared, "They're called Unforgivable Curses _for a reason_!"

"Hey!" yelped Harry, picking up his wand as the young wizards raced up the lane while the rat fled down an alley. "Who are you, where are you, and how is Auror business any of _your_ business?"

"You have no more right to use those curses than a common murderer," the voice intoned. Briefly Harry wondered whether Hermione had somehow found out that he occasionally used a curse or two and had created a voice tailored to Harry's own fantasies, or rather sense of guilt, to persuade him to stop. "You were always too quick to try shortcuts like _Sectumsempra_ instead of dueling fairly."

The name of that spell sent a chill up Harry's spine. It wasn't only that so few people had ever heard of the spell. It was that, apart from Draco and Snape, who had been there, and his best friends, whom Harry had told afterward, no one else to Harry's knowledge had found out about that one awful time Harry had used _Sectumsempra_. "What do you mean, dueling fairly?" he shouted at the disembodied voice. "I only cast _Sectumsempra_ because Malfoy had just tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on me! What was fair about that?"

"Nothing, which is why you should have known better than to sink to Malfoy's level," the Snape-voice retorted. "With all the advantages of being the Chosen One, you might at least attempt to be a good wizard."

"I _am_ a good wizard," insisted Harry, but the voice had fallen silent, and again Harry had the impression that whoever was responsible for it had disappeared for the moment. Sighing, he checked his wand for damage and continued on his way. His mood was not improved by the discovery that, yet again, he had an erection from the voice's demands.

Meetings kept him in the Ministry offices for the rest of the week, giving him another reason to be cranky. "You need to stop snapping at everyone as if they're your underlings," Hermione admonished him, though she merely rolled her eyes instead of scowling when Harry asked her for the fiftieth time whether there was any way Snape could have survived the snake attack. "I know you hate St. Mungo's, but I still think you should consider talking to someone -- a Muggle therapist if not a wizard," she told Harry. "Some of them specialize in grief counseling. You wouldn't have to talk about magic, just about your guilt."

"I have nothing to feel guilty about!" retorted Harry, stomping off to the records office. He'd been through Snape's rooms at Hogwarts, and what was left at Spinner's End, and the cellars at Malfoy Manor -- which the Malfoys had reluctantly let him search when Harry had hinted that he'd bring a warrant and five other Aurors if Lucius denied him -- but he'd found no evidence that Snape was still alive. 

Of course, he had very little evidence that Snape was dead, either. No one seemed to be able to explain what had happened to Snape's body or why his grave was apparently hidden by a Fidelius Charm, since nobody could say where it was. Harry believed that neither McGonagall nor Draco knew anything, because he'd slipped them a bit of Veritaserum to find out if they did. But someone had to have a clue.

There was nothing new to be discovered in Ministry records about Snape's family or the house at Spinner's End. Harry already knew where Eileen Prince was born, how she was disowned by her magical parents for marrying a Muggle, when she died, and how many books she had left to her only son. He was about to declare the whole afternoon a waste when he realized something. Eileen had apparently been living alone when she died. Tobias Snape's signatures were on none of the papers naming next of kin or dispersion of property. And Harry could find no evidence of a death certificate.

"I need access to Muggle records," Harry announced, marching into Hermione's office. 

She smiled at him. "Have you finally decided to take my advice?" When he gave her a blank look, she added, "About seeing a Muggle counselor?"

Harry shook his head. "It's Ministry work. I need to track down the address of a Muggle. Where do I go to do that?"

It had once puzzled Hermione that Harry was nearly as clueless about the Muggle world as he was about aspects of wizarding society, given that he had grown up in a Muggle household, but by now Hermione understood that there was nothing normal about Harry's upbringing locked under the stairs at Privet Drive, so she didn't roll her eyes this time. "I would start at a public library," she said. "If the person has telephone service, it's possible BT will have a record."

"Oh, a telephone book," Harry replied cheerfully, pleased to have caught a reference he understood.

Hermione gave him another odd look. "I don't think they've printed telephone books for years. You've heard of a computer, haven't you? They'll have one at the library."

Naturally, it was possible that Tobias Snape was no longer alive, given that all Harry knew about him was that he was a drunk with a temper. Or that he'd been living under a different name, hiding from Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix members alike who might have tried to use him to influence his son. It was possible that he had no idea what had become of Severus, or that he wouldn't care if Severus had died a hero.

But, as it turned out, Tobias Snape was still alive. With a listed address. Plus, as far as Harry could tell, a second wife, with whom he lived in a rundown but relatively safe neighborhood in Blackpool. 

A single morning observing the home revealed to Harry that Tobias was likely retired and probably sober -- he lived next door to a Muggle church, and people waved to the elderly man sitting in the window as they passed. Severus Snape had looked more like the photos Harry had seen of Eileen Prince than of her husband, but Harry could spot a bit of resemblance. 

However, when he approached the house and knocked, the door remained shut. When he tried to wave through the window, the old man turned away, pretending not to see him. Shouts and notes slipped through the letterbox were similarly ignored. After fifteen full minutes, in a state of true desperation, Harry had pulled out his wand to cast an innocent single-command Imperius Curse, when -- as he should have expected, and therefore thought to try it in the first place -- the wand flew out of his hand.

"You really should listen to your friend Granger," growled the voice.

Harry tried to work himself into a state of outrage, but his sense of triumph was too strong. "If you followed me from her office to here, you've obviously cast a tracking spell that only authorized magical agents are allowed to use."

"No magical agents are authorized to use Forbidden Curses," the voice reminded him. "How do you know that I haven't been authorized to rein you in?"

It really should not have been so arousing to hear what was obviously intended as a threat, yet the words _rein you in_ in Snape's voice instantly got Harry hard. "How do you intend to do that if I can't even see your face?" he demanded.

His wand, which he had been reaching to retrieve, leapt back from his hand, soaring up in the air again as if by _Wingardium Leviosa_. "You don't need to see my face for me to elevate your wand," the voice said smoothly. 

Harry was pretty sure it wasn't meant to be a lewd double entendre. He was also hopeful that a disembodied voice couldn't tell how hard he was in his trousers. "No one at the Ministry is on my case, only you," he pointed out. "And you're apparently too much of a coward to show yourself."

Turning back to the house, he pounded on the door. "Tobias Snape!" he shouted. "I'm Harry Potter. You may not have heard of me, but I'm a very important wizard. I knew your son."

"Go away," came the reply from inside the house.

Harry stamped one foot and slammed his fist on the door several times. “I’m not going away!”

All at once the door swung open and the old man Harry had seen in the window stood there, growling down at him, though not from a great height as he was only a few inches taller than Harry himself. "Yes, you are." Something grabbed Harry in the middle of his chest, and the familiar feeling of being turned inside out roared over him. The quiet suburban street vanished, to be replaced by green -- green trees, green fields, green grass and Harry face down in it. 

With a groan he rolled over. Someone had Apparated him here, wherever "here" was. Dusting himself off, he got to his feet. Nothing seemed broken, though he suspected he would have a lump on his head. He did a quick repair spell on his glasses, which had twisted when he landed. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the ever-present hum of traffic, so even in this corner of green hell, there had to be civilization somewhere. He hiked across the field, clambered over a low stone wall, and spotted a road sign. County Sligo. Ireland, he was in Ireland. It would have taken a powerful Apparating spell to get him all the way to Ireland, and Tobias Snape was not a wizard, powerful or otherwise. 

Harry pulled down his shirt and Apparated back to Blackpool. The tidy little house was dark and the shades were pulled down. "Ha ha, very funny," he yelled at the door. A stout lady, out walking a stout dog across the street, slowed down to look at him. Harry's wand hand itched to hex her, but he refrained, giving a weak wave instead. She didn't move, even though her dog was tugging at the leash. She had that "going to call the constable" look about her, so Harry nodded and strolled away in the opposite direction. 

He went down a nearby street, cast a Disillusionment Charm, and circled back again, making certain the nosy old biddy had moved on before lifting the spell. On his stroll he noticed an alley between the rows of houses. It was easy to pick out the one belonging to Tobias Snape from the rear. True, the curtains were drawn here as well, but Harry could see a bit of light leaking underneath. He was tempted to try an Unforgivable just to get the Snape-voice's attention, but he decided on a different approach. 

Opening the garden gate, Harry made his way through the small yet neat backyard. Once he arrived on the back porch, he pounded on the back door. "Very funny," he yelled. "Ireland is lovely this time of year!" The light under the curtain clicked out. "Look, I know you're in there. Don't make me do an Unforgivable Curse to get your attention!" 

Without warning the door opened. Harry nearly fell inside. The glare this time was from much higher, but the expression on Snape's face was equally murderous. "No Unforgivables for the Chosen One," he hissed, yanking Harry inside and slamming the door behind him.

"You're alive!" Harry said, barely noticing the small kitchen Snape had pulled him into. 

"Quick one, that," came the voice of Tobias Snape, pouring out tea into three cups. 

Snape folded his arms over his chest, still glaring. "Why can't you stay out of trouble, Potter?" he said, in a normal voice, but it was so unexpected and so familiar that despite the startling proof of his suspicions, Harry was already starting to become aroused. 

"You aren't dead!" he exclaimed, feeling ridiculous but also feeling better for having it said out loud. "How -- "

Tobias thrust the cup of tea in his hand and Harry took a sip without looking away from Snape's face. He looked much the same, though in simple black clothing instead of the teaching robes Harry had last seen him in. Older, of course, with some grey creeping into the familiar fall of black hair. "Surely you've worked that part out," Snape said impatiently, taking a cup of tea from his father. The two men exchanged a look.

"I had my theories," Harry said. "No one believed me."

"And no one will," Snape replied, somehow making it sound menacing even though they were standing in a kitchen drinking tea out of teacups decorated with daisies. "If you hadn't broken every law dear to wizards, you would be none the wiser either."

"I haven't broken any -- " Harry began, but Snape put up one hand. "Only once or -- " Snape glared. "All right, but it doesn't hurt anyone, and it helps me maintain the law." Another glare. "It does. You don't know what it's like out there." He took a gulp of the tea. 

"Don't I?" Snape said. He nodded toward his father. 

"Bess will be back from her garden club in an hour," Tobias said, picking up the third cup. He gave Harry a searching look and left them alone in the kitchen. 

Harry noticed that Snape watched his father leave before returning his attention to Harry. They stared at each other for a moment. Without meaning to, Harry looked away first. "How do you do that -- " He waved one hand vaguely. "That voice thing."

"That is not even remotely the issue," Snape said, looking impatient. Some latent teaching impulse must have overcome his irritation because he added, "A simple modification on the _Sonorous_ charm." 

"It's dead useful," Harry said with ungrudging admiration. "I still can't believe -- "

"Why not?" Snape said sharply. "Do you believe I am so stupid as to allow myself to be poisoned? When I pounded, or tried to pound, a dozen ways to avoid being poisoned into my students' skulls year after year?" 

Harry leaned against the kitchen counter. It was a bit startling to see ordinary dishes stacked beside the sink, to see rose printed wallpaper on the walls. "How long have you been here?" 

Snape exhaled. "I can see we aren't going to get anywhere with your punishment until your curiosity is satisfied."

"Did -- did you say punishment?" Harry said, the cup rattling on the saucer. He desperately wanted to put something as sturdy as a table between himself and Snape because his cock liked the way Snape said _punishment_ and was telling him in a really obvious way. He put the cup down carefully, turning to hide the bulge in his trousers as best he could.

Narrowing his eyes, Snape said, "What did you think this was about, Potter? A tea party?" He took a step forward, leaning closer to Harry's face the way he used to do when Harry was about to give a cheeky remark about some lesson. "You have broken the law, you have used Unforgivable spells, and more than that, you have used them for trivial reasons. You ignored common sense and you ignored warnings. By all that's holy, yes, you will be punished for that."

Harry whimpered. Snape's face was close enough to throw spittle from his tirade onto Harry's face. Instead of being disgusted by this, Harry found himself leaning closer. It was Snape who snapped back in surprise. They stared at each other for a moment. Thankfully Snape’s gaze was above the waist because Harry was hard enough to hammer nails. 

"You know I can't refute you," Harry said, his voice a little shaky. "But I have to know how you found me out."

Snape was standing at his full height. At some point, he had put down his cup as well. He studied Harry much too closely for comfort. When he spoke, he said something Harry was not expecting. "What was your inheritance from Albus Dumbledore?" 

Harry blinked. "A Snitch. The one I caught in my mouth. With the Resurrection Stone inside." 

This was not, apparently, news to Snape, who merely nodded. "I received this," he said, pulling something from around his neck that had been nestled inside his shirt. Harry found himself taking a step away from the counter to get a closer look at whatever it was. 

"A Time Turner?" Harry said in surprise. "I thought they were all destroyed." 

"It isn't a Time Turner," Snape said, holding it out. Whatever it was, it was on a long silver chain. There was a silver wheel with symbols all around, and in the center, where the hourglass should have been, was a tiny oval mirror. Harry thought he could see an eye reflected in the mirror, but whether it was his own or someone else's, it was gone too quickly to determine. 

"It's a Miscreant Mirror. Guess who the Miscreant is." Snape held it lovingly and Harry found himself looking not at the pendant but at Snape's fingers all but caressing it. "Albus thought I should keep an eye on you. Unfortunately, being alive means I have to carry out his last instructions."

"What's it do?" Harry turned his head several ways to try to catch the eye in the mirror as Snape rubbed his thumb along the bevel where the chain slid through. 

"There are several settings." He manipulated the wheel and light refracted from the mirror, briefly creating rainbow patterns on Mrs. Snape's rose wallpaper. "The one I have used the most, to my vast displeasure, is the one that alerts me when you use Unforgivable Spells."

"Wicked," Harry said, in open admiration. 

"Exactly." Snape put the device back inside his shirt. "And you have been quite wicked."

The way Snape said _wicked_ made Harry's cock feel like it might explode in his clothes. "How exactly do you intend to punish me?" he asked, hoping Snape believed the quaver in his voice was from concern or anger or even fear as long as Snape didn't figure out that it was from arousal.

"It's a shame I can no longer give you detention." A helpless whine escaped Harry's nose. He tried to turn it into a harrumph of outrage. Why was he excited thinking about detention with Snape when he'd despised it, and despised Snape, every time he'd had detention with him at Hogwarts? It must have been a strange manifestation of relief that Snape wasn't dead. 

"And reporting you to your superiors would require that I make contact with people I'm very happy never to have to see again." That reminded Harry that he didn't know why Snape was hiding his survival -- surely McGonagall and Slughorn would be glad to know he was all right, even if Harry couldn't blame Snape for never wanting to see the Malfoys again. It was a pity Harry couldn't just slip Snape some Veritaserum and ask, but Harry had a feeling that Snape would recognize Veritaserum at once, even if it was colorless, odorless, and pretty much indistinguishable from water.

As though he'd caught that last thought via undetectable Legilimency, Snape's eyes narrowed. "Unfortunately, I can't turn you over my knee." Oh fuck! Harry wanted to say that, yes, really Snape could if he wanted, but he knew that if he opened his mouth, he would groan his arousal in a very explicit way. Snape's Muggle father, who'd apparently been cruel and prejudiced against wizards and for all Harry knew prejudiced against homosexuals as well, was just in the next room. Harry nodded fervently, hoping that Snape would take it as agreement that he could not turn Harry over his knee rather than encouragement to do just that. 

Snape gave him an odd look, and for an instant Harry was certain that Snape knew exactly what his cock was up to. He tried to remember things he'd learned from Occlumency lessons, but even remembering Occlumency lessons, with Snape pressing into his mind while Harry tried not to think about sex with men, only made him more excited. But then Snape scowled and snapped, "To begin with, you will stop using all Unforgivable Curses at all times or you will face immediate consequences. You shall work this entire week without casting any curses at all or you will instantly suffer for your choices."

Harry knew that he needed to get out of the room immediately before he humiliated himself. "Great," he spoke over Snape's last words. "Um, I drank all that tea, do you mind if I use the loo?"

With a deeper scowl, Snape pointed through the kitchen in the direction of the staircase, where Harry could see a door. He raced down the hall and shut himself inside, very grateful that the tiny room had no window. Snape could probably break his privacy spells but at least Tobias wouldn't be able to barge in as Harry shoved his trousers down and wanked furiously, focused on the faded blue cornflower print over the toilet and certainly not on what it would feel like to be put over Snape's knee to be spanked...oh fuck yes, Harry came so hard that he wasn't sure the silencing charm would successfully stop him from alerting the entire neighborhood to his spectacular ejaculation.

He made a point of removing the silencing charm while he washed up afterward, hoping Snape might think he was merely fastidious. And he made certain not to look Snape in the eye when he returned to the kitchen. He didn't think Snape would bother using Legilimency on him right then, but it was hard to be certain.

"So, no Unforgivable Curses," he said as brightly as he could. "I am still curious, though. Did you come here right after the battle, or did you and your father..."

"Enough," Snape cut him off. "I have better things to do than to supervise the Chosen One."

"But I wanted to know how -- "

Snape held up a hand. He was glaring daggers at Harry. "No curses at all," he repeated. "Especially not aimed at me. No illicit potions, no forbidden spells, no misuse of magical artifacts. And not a word to anyone else about my whereabouts. Now get out of here, Potter."

"Will you be checking in at the end of the -- "

"OUT!"

Harry still had so many questions. What did Snape have to do? Did he have a Muggle job? Was his father sick? Did Nagini's bite require that he spend hours a day getting infusions of calamus? Most of all, why would Snape tell Harry not to aim any curses at him -- did Snape suppose Harry would try to Imperius him to kiss him or something?

But it was obvious that he wasn't going to get any more answers today, and he'd had to waste time he could have spent asking questions locked in the loo to wank. With a sigh, he headed for the door. "I'll come back next week, then," he announced, and shut the door behind him before Snape could tell him not to.

Harry thought that the hardest part of knowing he couldn't use an Unforgivable Curse was not hearing the sexy Snape voice turn up to scold him. He'd dated a bit here and there since the end of the war, but everyone treated him like a hero and looked shocked if he suggested anything naughty or lewd or a little bit perverted, so it had been a revelation to discover how exciting it was to be scolded by Snape. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to take it for granted that he could fire off a _Crucio_ if need be at a reluctant informant who refused to tell the Ministry where Walden Macnair had been hiding out since the Battle of Hogwarts. And it would have been so much faster to track down a rumored group of anti-Muggle former Slytherins with a little Imperius Curse. Everything took so much longer now.

And what if Snape refused to see him again? As awful as it had been to be told by everyone that Snape was dead and very nearly to believe it, wouldn't it be worse to know that Snape was alive but wanted nothing to do with Harry? He didn't know whether to be grateful to Dumbledore for giving Snape the means to keep an eye on him or furious that he would forever be a miscreant in Snape's eyes. How was he going to get through an entire week before he could at least attempt to speak to Snape again?

And Snape! He'd found him! Alive! And been so horny that he'd wanked over him! In Snape's own loo! Maybe there was a good explanation for that. Maybe Snape was so obsessed with Unforgivable Curses because he was using the Imperius Curse to make Harry lust after him. But no, that didn't make sense -- Snape hadn't even wanted to be found, and had demanded that Harry leave the house without trying to grope him once, even though Harry was, he thought, still in pretty good shape despite not keeping up with his Quidditch exercises. 

It was possible that Hermione was right, that something was slightly addled in Harry's mind, but it couldn't be grief for Snape because Harry had found him alive and well. Maybe it was normal to celebrate life by wanting to wank when someone presumed dead turned up alive. But that didn't really explain why Harry felt compelled to wank so often, now, while having fantasies of punishment, nor why, having proved that Snape was alive, Harry was desperate for the week to end so that he could see him again and face further disciplinary action.

"You've got to stop scolding the trainees," an exasperated Hermione told him. "Everyone is working as hard as they can. Harry, I still think you should consider grief counseling..."

"I don't need grief counseling. I'm fine. Better than fine," Harry informed her. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Why don't you and Ron go out for a pint sometime? Sometime soon." She tried to look as though her lack of subtlety was not as obvious as a hippogriff in the room.

"You just want him to get me drunk so he can find out what's going on, but there's nothing going on," Harry said firmly. Going out for a pint with Ron was almost always excruciating. As much as he loved his friend, he did not want to hear anything, _absolutely_ anything, about Ron's intimate life with Hermione, and he did not want to endure Ron's eye-rolling when Harry harmlessly flirted with a fit waiter or barman. Plus Harry had never mastered the skill of holding his booze. After one pint, he was likely to blurt out everything about Snape's miraculous return from the dead, and about Harry's own increasingly fervent desires to have Snape punish him. 

Hermione did not look happy about his refusal, but she didn’t push him any further. "Well, you know you can always talk to me if you need someone."

Harry laughed and gave her a nudge of his shoulder. "I promise when there's something to tell, you'll be the first." He mentally told himself that truly there was nothing to tell because nothing had actually happened yet that he could even prove. Snape could vanish as any moment and it would only be Harry's word that he had ever seen the man. He'd end up in St. Mungo's if he insisted on that. Whatever reasons Snape had for staying hidden were none of Harry's business -- or so he tried to tell himself.

It was one of the longest weeks Harry had ever endured, but he finally made it through without using a single Unforgivable curse. True, he hadn't solved as many cases, but no one looked askance at him for citing procedures when questioning suspects or following up on fewer leads. 

He made sure to have a spectacular wank before presenting himself at the Snape doorstep. If he had called out Snape's first name while doing it, well, no one was around to see or hear, were they? He was careful about things like that at least. As he approached the front door, he was beginning to think he should have had two wanks before Apparating to Blackpool -- just the thought of seeing Snape again was having its usual effect on his cock. 

The person who opened the door, however, was not Snape. Well, not Severus Snape. It was not even Tobias Snape. It was, presumably Mrs. Snape. She looked him over and stepped back away from the door. "You must be Severus's young man, then," she said, gesturing him inside. 

"He is not my young man," Severus said from the kitchen doorway. He glared at his stepmother, though it had no effect. Snape was zipping up a jacket -- black, of course. "Bess, this is Harry, who has only returned to make a nuisance of himself."

"Whatever you say, boy," Bess Snape said, shrugging. She looked at the jacket at the same time Harry did. "Will you be wanting tea?"

"No, thank you," Snape said more politely than Harry had ever heard him. He looked Harry over and nodded toward the door. "Let's walk." To Bess he added, "We won't be long."

Harry trailed after him down the path, but managed to keep up once they were on the street. "What did you tell them about me?" he asked, catching his breath. Snape had a long stride and he made no allowances for Harry's shorter one. Perhaps, he thought, he wasn't quite in the fine shape he believed, and he should take the Ministry up on one of its fitness training programs. 

"Why should I tell them anything?" Snape asked gruffly. "Why are you even here again?"

"I said I would come back," Harry said as they turned into another street of almost identical houses. "I didn't want you to think I don't keep my promises on top of everything else." The words 'on top of' had sent Harry's brain skittering in forbidden directions, so he had to focus to get his mind back onto the conversation, such as it was. 

"I'm perfectly capable of keeping track of you, if I so choose," Snape said, hunching against the wind that whipped up from the sea a few miles away. He touched a spot on his chest where the Miscreant pendant was hanging. 

"I've been good this week," Harry reported. "All week, not a single curse."

If he expected praise, he was destined for disappointment. "You'd better have been."

They walked in silence until the end of the street, where Snape turned again, leading to the road behind his father's. Harry spotted the alley where he had first snuck in the back gate to Tobias’s house. "Come on, what did you tell them?" Harry asked. "Do they know you were my teacher?" 

Snape made a sound and turned so that he could see Harry through the trailing curtain of hair. "They don't know anything about that life. Not my past, not my profession. Not how it ended."

"Ended?" Harry frowned. "You aren't dead." To be certain he gave Snape’s arm a little push, not entirely certain until that moment that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him and that Snape might be a ghost. Then another idea struck him. "You aren't -- " The horror of it was too overwhelming and he stopped. "You aren't living as a Muggle?" 

Snape, however, did not stop, and Harry raced to catch up. He was panting after just a few steps. Definitely a Ministry fitness course for him. "You are, aren't you? That's why no one has seen you or heard you're still alive." 

"And no one will, do you hear me, Potter?" They had reached the other side of the back alley between the rows of houses and Snape turned down it so they would be off the street. "I'm not planning on spending my remaining days in Azkaban, not for you, not for anyone." 

He strode off towards the back garden of Tobias's house but Harry had stopped again, watching him, stupefied. "But sir -- " Harry ran down the alley. "You won't. You’re not wanted, at least not by the Ministry. The Auror department has a long list of wanted suspects. You're not on it. I should know." 

Snape had reached the gate. He stopped to wait for Harry, or to curse him, Harry wasn't certain, but he caught up anyway. "I'm not wanted because everyone thinks I'm deceased," he said with a sneer.

"No, I mean, yes, of course they do, but I'm telling you that you have never been wanted, except for the disposal of your remains. The Ministry would have given you a hero’s burial if they had found your body. Even the Malfoys got off on all charges and you know what wankers they were -- are." Harry grabbed the gate post so Snape wouldn't fling it open and stalk back inside.

Looking down at him, Snape stared for a long moment. "It doesn't matter. I'm not going back. If you weren't such a handful -- " He pursed his lips and Harry had to look away, vividly imagining the handful he wanted Snape to be grasping. 

"But I am," Harry said desperately. "You need to keep an eye on me and you need magic to do that." 

"I am not your keeper," growled Snape. "If your mother were alive..."

A sinking feeling compressed Harry's stomach, not just because he wasn't in anything like competitive Quidditch shape. Of course. Snape was doing this all because of Harry's mother, the great love of his life. "Oh," Harry said in a small voice. "I forgot how you felt about my mum. Is that why you came back to your father? Did he know her?"

From the look Snape gave him, Harry thought that this time he really was about to be cursed. "My father wouldn't remember your mother if he had met her," he spat. "For most of my childhood, he was a miserable drunk."

That had, in fact, been Harry's perception from what he had seen of Snape's memories, but he was no less confused now, because Tobias Snape had seemed fairly even-tempered and Harry hadn't seen any bottles hidden around the kitchen -- from his work as an Auror, he was good at noticing such things. "He seems better now," Harry observed. "Is there a potion for that, or something?"

The look Snape gave him could have curdled Amortentia. "No, Potter, there is no potion to cure alcoholism. For wizards and Muggles alike, only years of strict control over one's lifestyle and behaviors can bring about treatment. My father met my stepmother in rehab and they have, apparently, been able to support each other through the process."

Harry knew that he must have sounded very insensitive. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I only meant that the neighbors seem to like him now, and you do too."

"That requires years of strict control as well," muttered Snape. "In any case, I reconnected with my father because he had no connection to my life among wizards, and I preferred it that way." 

So it wasn't just fear of Azkaban that had made Snape disappear. Harry felt deflated. Even his near-constant erection had wilted. "Well," he began again, squaring his shoulders. "You don't have to be responsible for me just because you loved my mum."

Abruptly Snape's glare returned full force. "Are you under the impression that I wish to curb your appetite for dark curses because of some long-held passion for Lily Evans? Let me cure you of that notion right now. Your mother was my oldest friend and the only person who knew just how much I wanted to escape from my parents, many years ago. My feelings for her were never romantic."

Shaking his head in confusion, Harry said, "But those memories, the ones you gave me when you were dying, I mean when you thought you were dying…" The images flashed by in a rush again, as though Harry had stuck his head back inside the Pensieve. He had always assumed a romantic connection between Snape and his mother, but if he looked at them now he saw the errors in his assumptions. He'd been looking at her, hungry for glimpses of the childhood no one had ever shared with him. She had been pretty and popular and Snape had been neither of those things, but he had not looked at her the way a scorned lover did. 

"Why does this matter to you, Potter? My sole reason for contacting you was to fulfill the very unfair and ironic bequest made by the dottiest old man that ever lived -- " Snape was close to spitting again but Harry didn't step away.

"But you loved him. I did too. Despite his faults, dotty or otherwise." It was weird to think of Snape loving anyone and it gave Harry an odd feeling, as though he himself had been found wanting. That led to another thought, one even more terrible. Before he could let it sink in, Snape voiced it.

"And Dumbledore wouldn't have let you get away with your lackadaisical use of Unforgivables. He would have been _disappointed_ in you," Snape said, towering over Harry with a sneer that seemed permanently carved into his face. 

Harry, whose every youthful mischief had been swept aside by adults feeling sympathy for his lack of parents, had never faced anyone who had been _disappointed_ in him. Ron had been scolded for leading them into trouble, Hermione had chastised herself, but Harry had rarely dealt with the consequences of his own actions. 

"Ah," Snape said, folding his arms over his chest. "Could comprehension at last be sinking in?" Before Harry could retort, or even think of something to fling back, Snape went on, "Then I will tell you a secret -- one of the secrets, at least -- about the Miscreant Mirror. It only works on Redeemables. If you had been a hopeless case, its magic could not have found you. And I wouldn't be responsible for choosing your punishment." 

Harry’s fevered brain immediately dropped all thoughts of Snape's memories, or of Dumbledore's qualities, or indeed of anything that did not include the acts of punishment that had fueled his wank fantasies throughout the week. Still, a token protest, he thought, was called for. "Wait, I've been good all week. A model Auror, in fact. You can't punish me for that," he protested, thinking it sounded pretty good because Snape didn't look like he was wavering from his promise of punishment. 

"If you think I will rely on your word of honor that you won't use any more curses when the urge suits you, you must think I am as gullible as your friends," Snape told him. 

Harry opened his mouth to protest but snapped it shut. "All right, that's fair." He didn't miss Snape's look of triumphant pleasure at the admission. "But I think we should work it out between us." He gestured between them. "You don't want to be found, and I don't want to be found out." 

Thoughtfully Snape tapped the fingers of one hand against his opposite arm, and even that subtle gesture brought Harry's stiffy back to full attention. "I suppose I could see how you behave for another week..." Snape began.

"No!" From the look Snape gave him, Harry knew he must have sounded much too breathless and overeager for punishment. "That is, I think we should, um, get it over with. You wouldn't want me distracted from important Auror business, would you?"

Snape's eyes had narrowed. "You will not use the excuse of important Auror business to escape from the work if I assign you six rolls of parchment on the history and enforcement of Unforgivable Curses..."

"Six rolls of parchment!" interrupted Harry, the words coming out nearly as a wail. "That's the punishment you had in mind?"

"What sort of punishment were you expecting? Twenty points from Gryffindor?" Snape sneered at him. 

Harry didn't feel his thoughts being invaded by Legilimency -- he didn't think Snape could know he'd been hoping or rather expecting to be ordered to strip off and stand in the toilet again. Or made to relive all his most embarrassing memories. Or maybe something more specific to his alleged misdeeds like being bent over Snape's knee for a spanking so he'd feel the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. Or being locked in Snape's bedroom for a month without any contact with the outside world so he'd see what it was like to miss out on life due to the Killing Curse. Or Harry's favorite, being forced to service Snape's every perverted sexual whim so he'd understand the horror of the Imperius Curse. But Snape's expression abruptly changed to something far angrier than a sneer.

"Stop it," roared Snape, glaring right in Harry's face.

"I'm not doing anything!" Harry turned his hands up to demonstrate that they weren't even holding his wand.

"You may assume you can get away with using the Imperius Curse to have your way with some two-bit would-be dark wizard, Potter, but you will not be using it on me!"

Now Harry was truly insulted. First of all, he'd never had to use any sort of deception to have his way with a wizard -- even the ones who weren't attracted to him liked the idea of being able to brag that they'd done it with the Chosen One -- and second of all, even if someone he'd really wanted had rejected him, which wasn't bloody likely because he'd never met anyone he wanted as much as he wanted bloody Snape, he wouldn't have stooped so low...

"Hold on," Harry said, shaking his head. "You think I used the Imperius Curse for _sex_? And you think I'm trying to use it on _you_?"

Whatever Legilimency Snape might have been using on Harry must have persuaded him of Harry's sincerity, because Snape took a step back, crossing his hands in front of himself. "Not for sex, undoubtedly," he growled. "You're trying to distract me. I should simply report you to the Ministry, even if it means giving up my privacy. The wizarding world cannot afford to have a power-hungry Boy Who Lived running around unchecked..."

"Stop!" Harry cut in, even though he knew it was probably a bad idea to give Snape orders lest Snape should think he was trying to _Imperio_ him. Then again, it was just as well if Snape figured out Harry wasn't exercising any sort of magical control over him and explained why he had ever thought Harry might be. "I've never used the Imperius Curse for any sort of personal...anything! It's always been on Ministry business or to stop You Know Who. You can't think I'd be daft enough to try to use it on you."

"Then why," barked Snape, triumph and fury intermingled on his features, "am I suddenly thinking only of punishments of a perverse erotic nature?"

"Maybe because you're using Legilimency on me!" shouted Harry before he could stop himself. He regretted the words immediately, just as he could see that Snape regretted mentioning that his fantasies, that is to say, plans, were of an erotic nature. Let alone a perverse erotic nature. Snape was, unusually, rather flushed, and Harry could feel that his own cheeks were warm. "Um, I mean, maybe somebody is using the Imperius Curse on us both. Can that Miscreant Manipulator make you do things it thinks will help you cure miscreants?"

"No it can't," muttered Snape crossly. "Not even Dumbledore could make it do that."

"Well, I haven't used any curses on you or around you or anywhere, really, not recently," Harry told him triumphantly. "So if you're having perverse erotic ideas, they're all your own!"

If Harry thought Snape's lips couldn't get any thinner, he was wrong. "We cannot have this discussion in my father's back garden," he said, glancing toward the back door. 

Harry had a sudden vision of himself having to make his way back from Ireland. He put a hand on Snape's sleeve. "Let's go somewhere else," he said, making sure Snape knew he wanted to go together. 

But as usual, Snape was one step ahead of him. He used the slight contact between them to wrap his fingers around Harry's forearm. "Don't let go," he said warningly, and suddenly Harry's insides were twisting with the force of Apparation. Wherever they landed, it certainly didn't smell like Ireland. He found his balance just as Snape released him. "You may let go now."

"Where are we?" Harry asked, still swaying without Snape's support.

"My dungeon of forbidden pleasures," Snape said, with a peculiar catch in his voice.

Excited, Harry looked around. There was a fireplace, cold. A sofa, worn. A bookcase, crammed full of books. "Where are the, um," he began, hoping to see a rack of paddles or restraints. At least a row of brewing potions with exotic stimulants bubbling away.

"You really are too gullible to exist," Snape said with a disgusted noise. "You're in my sitting room. I had to bring you here myself because there are magical protections all around my house."

"You mean Spinner's End?" Harry looked around again. He had visited earlier, looking for evidence that Snape was still alive, but the place had looked considerably worse for wear than this. Snape must have used the same spell Slughorn had used to hide his presence when he was hiding in the house where Harry had first met him. "That's pretty brilliant," he had to admit.

Snape snorted indelicately. "Brilliant enough to fool you, at least. I was aware of your snooping." He aimed his wand and the embers in the fireplace suddenly burst into full flame. "I'm sorry to have to disappoint you, but the house does not have a dungeon. Not even a proper cellar."

Now that Harry could see more clearly, he looked over the room in the light from the fire. The books appeared to be ordinary volumes about magic, not erotica or sex magic as Harry had always assumed were kept in some hidden corner of the Restricted Section that he'd never found. But there were a few photos -- one of a woman Harry recognized from other photos he'd seen as Snape's mother, and one of his own mother, with a jagged tear next to it as though someone else had been ripped out of the picture. She smiled and waved at him from the frame.

What interested Harry more, however, were the photos of himself. Snape had several. One apparently cut out of the _Daily Prophet_ after the Battle of Hogwarts. One playing Quidditch, apparently for fun and not a match because Harry wasn't wearing Gryffindor colors and he was older than when he'd played as a student, but he had to admit that he looked rather fit riding the broom. And one quite recent, taken at some Ministry function or other.

"You... _like_ me," he said in surprise."

"What makes you say that?" Snape growled, but the menace in his voice was lost as he followed Harry's gaze to the photos. Putting a hand to the pendant beneath his shirt, he shook his head. "Merely responsible for you," he said defensively. 

Harry picked up the one of himself on the broom. "This is more than that," he said. The Harry in the photo made a wanking gesture, then winked at him, jerking his head toward Snape. Harry laughed. "A lot more." He put the photo back on the shelf. "It's okay, I like you too. Fancy you even," he added.

"I am not the fanciable sort," Snape said, narrowing his eyes at the Harry-on-the-broom photo, but it merely banked and flew out of the frame. "Least of all by -- "

"By a bad Auror?" Harry said. "By someone who never though they could get your attention so I just never gave a fuck?" Harry turned back toward him. "Think again. I'm pants at my job, I know that. But I want to get better. I'm bad at being with anyone because they weren't ever the right one. The one I really wanted was dead. Or at least I thought he was." 

Being under Snape's full regard was ten times worse now they were alone than it had ever been back when Harry had been a student. Something played at the corners of Snape's mouth. "You just want me to spank you."

Harry burst out laughing. "I really do."

"And is that all you want?" Snape's long nose wrinkled faintly. Harry wondered when he had stopped finding it ugly and started finding it sexy. "I suppose you have a long history of indulging your every perverse desire with men who find the Chosen One irresistible."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I have a pretty short history and it's not very perverse." Shrugging, Harry tried to think of things he'd done that might count, but other than some experimenting with dildos and that one time he'd done it blindfolded, mostly so he could fantasize about someone else while he was doing it, he couldn't think of any. "I suppose _you_ have a long history of whatever kinky things Slytherins get up to in dungeons," he challenged.

"I hate to disappoint you," echoed Snape, "but I haven't been up to anything in a dungeon in many, many years."

Rather than being a disappointment, this seemed like good news to Harry. "Don't you think maybe we should seize the day?"

Snape gazed at him for so long that Harry was sure he was looking for a polite way to decline that wouldn't make Harry keep misusing Unforgivable Curses just to get his attention. Then Snape seized his wrist. "I suppose I do have an obligation," he growled, tugging Harry over to the sofa. Releasing Harry's wrist, he then spoke the three sexiest words Harry had ever heard in his life: "Bare your bottom."

He did it quickly, almost without thinking, hand on zipper almost before the last word was finished. His jeans were around his ankles when his hands started trembling and he was moaning, not certain he could get them off around his shoes, which he'd forgotten, in his excitement, to remove.

"That will do," Snape said, pulling a fold of Harry's jeans, so that Harry scooted closer, practically falling over Snape's knees. Harry was still trembling as Snape's hand brushed lightly over the curve of his arse. "Stop squirming," he commanded.

"I'm not, I'm -- fuck -- trembling," Harry admitted.

There was a long moment, when Snape's hand lifted and Harry thought at once that Snape would not go through with it, when the hand fell, squarely on one cheek of Harry's arse. He let out a wail, cock already so hard there was no way Snape couldn't feel it against his legs. 

"Your cries won't make me stop," Snape said from somewhere over Harry's shoulder.

"Don't want you to stop," he wailed as several more swats landed on his bottom, then on the upper parts of his thighs, one side after the other. Harry was bucking, rubbing himself against the rough fabric of Snape's trousers. "Fuck, oh fuck, don't stop," he begged.

"What a filthy mouth you have," Snape growled as Harry bucked helplessly and he came all over Snape's lap, cock spurting as though it had been pent up by a spell only now released. 

It was the best orgasm he had had in, well, ever, and his throat was raw from shouting when rational thought finally returned. "Oh fuck," was all he managed to say, proving Snape's point, he supposed, but then Harry was very eager to show Snape just how dirty his mouth could be.

"You have less self-control than any Auror in history," chided Snape, though Harry couldn't help noticing that he sounded quite breathless and felt quite aroused beneath Harry's thighs. "If anyone had taught you one miniscule drop of discipline..."

"Oh yes, you should definitely try," said Harry, though he was sliding off Snape's lap, reaching to unfasten his trousers. Snape's hand moved as if to stop him, to teach him the discipline he was so sorely lacking, when Harry added, " _Sir._ " Snape pressed his lips together, but he couldn't stop himself from letting out an unmistakable groan. "See, you don't have perfect control either." He managed to work Snape's damp flies apart well enough for Snape's cock to spring free, and nothing about that was a disappointment -- it was big and hard and hot in his hand. 

"Don't for a moment think I won't -- " But by the time Snape got that last word out, Harry had slid down and taken Snape's cock in his mouth, and the next sound Snape made wasn't at all coherent, though it was completely understandable. Snape's fingers slid into Harry's hair, gripping tightly as Harry's head bobbed up and down, taking him deeper each time. When he swiped his tongue over the head of Snape's cock, Snape roared like a wyvern. "I'm going to come down your throat!"

Harry thought he might get hard again just from hearing Snape say that, but he wanted to feel it more than he wanted to think about it. He let Snape see the outline of his own cock in Harry's cheek before he plunged his mouth back down, fumbling between Snape's hastily shoved down trousers to feel his balls. Tight and a perfect fit for Harry's determined fingers. His thumb moved over the seam, feeling them shift in his hand. Snape's fingers clutched at Harry's hair, as though his entire body was tightening. Harry moved his mouth faster because he was not going to live another moment without having Snape come down his throat.

His mouth was flooded with the hot seed as Snape cried out, nearly pulling out a handful of hair. He thought Snape might have shouted something but his ears were muffled by Snape's thighs. He turned his face up and could not help grinning. He was prouder of himself than when he had completed Auror training. 

"You might be redeemable after all," Snape said as his fingers combed through Harry's hair. 

Trying not to look smug, Harry asked, "But don't I need discipline?"

"You certainly do." Snape reached for his collar. Harry thought maybe he was about to take his shirt off, but instead Snape pulled out the chain around his neck, revealing the Miscreant Mirror. "However, this is not alerting me to any current wickedness on your part."

"Then it obviously can't read my mind." Smiling, Harry did a quick cleaning charm on his jeans, which were starting to feel unpleasantly damp and clammy. "I have lots of wicked plans for us."

Snape still looked delightfully satisfied, but he managed an echo of his familiar glare. "How will that teach you discipline?" he asked.

"I was thinking maybe you could do that. You're the teacher," Harry said.

"You never listened to anything I tried to teach you before," argued Snape, his fingers still on the pendant.

"You never tied me up while you were trying to teach potions, and you never spanked me when you were trying to teach me Occlumency," said Harry. Leaning in again, he reached to tidy Snape up, but Snape waved him away and tucked himself in. "Dumbledore did charge you with looking after me," he pointed out. 

Snape leaned back into the sofa cushions. "I don't think this is what he had in mind," he said, not objecting when Harry sat beside him. 

Harry let his hand rest on Snape's leg, chuckling. "Are you sure?" 

Appearing to consider it, Snape shook his head. "Not really." His own hand covered Harry's. "There will be no more Unforgivables to get my attention, even if you desire more -- " He squeezed Harry's hand. "Of this." 

"Agreed," Harry said quickly. He couldn't even remember why he needed to use the curses in the first place. "And I do, I desire more of this. A lot more."

He was about to suggest that Snape show him his bedroom when he heard a somewhat familiar yet out-of-place sound. Snape rolled his eyes a bit and fumbled with his trousers, pulling out what Harry recognized as a Muggle mobile phone. "Yes? Yes...yes, fine. Yes, I will." Another eyeroll, a glance in Harry's direction, and then, "Fine, I'll ask but I wouldn't expect it. Yes. Yes. Goodbye."

"Was that your father?" Harry asked, unable to imagine who else would have supplied Snape with such a device.

"It was Bess. She assumed we had walked to a cafe and asked me to buy butter while I'm in town." With a slight grimace, he added, "I am instructed to tell you that you are invited to dinner. At least, I assume she meant you -- she said my young man was invited to dinner."

"You better not have another young man." Harry grinned. "And I'd be happy to come to dinner. I'll even buy the butter. Oh wait -- I don't have any Muggle money." He was about to suggest using a spell to obtain butter when he remembered that he wasn't allowed to use spells for anything that might count as illicit personal gain, which, he realized with embarrassment, he did a lot. "Do I need to bring flowers or wine or anything?"

"Wine?" repeated Snape with the same horror as if Harry had suggested bringing a hungry Acromantula to dinner. "Were you not listening when I explained that my father met Bess while recovering from alcoholism?"

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "I was just trying to be polite. Does she know that you can do magic?"

"I would not be staying in that house if I were expected to hide who I am," huffed Snape, and Harry remembered that Bess had already assumed he might be her stepson's boyfriend. "But they know nothing about that world and it is safer for everyone if they never do."

"Don't talk about Hogwarts or anything, got it," Harry said. Though slightly disappointed that Snape wouldn't be taking him directly to bed, he was delighted that he was, apparently, going to have dinner with Snape's family as though they were a couple. 

In the end he got Snape to change a couple of Galleons for him and decided on flowers, picked out while Snape was carting around Tesco's like a typical non-magical person. Harry tried to picture Snape blending in with Muggles on a daily basis. He looked over the flower stand outside and observed him, thinking if he'd spotted a man that looked like that, he might have trailed him around the shop in hopes of a smile, a friendly chat-up, and, if he was lucky, more. Smiling to himself at the way his bum and the back of his legs still tingled, he dashed in with the flowers when Snape got to the check out. "These too, please," he said, adding them to the small pile of purchases Snape was making. "I'll pay you back," he said with what he hoped was a beguiling smile.

"Of that, you may be assured," Snape said, and Harry had to hide the front of his trousers with the bouquet. 

He was on his best behavior over dinner. Bess was delighted with the flowers and Tobias's subtle probing about his background was obvious, but Harry didn't mind. He liked that Snape had someone looking out for him. 

"Raised by an aunt and uncle? Poor dear," Bess said, and patted his arm over generous servings of trifle. 

"I got by," Harry said, not looking at Snape. He offered to help with the washing up, but Bess waved him away and presented an apron to Snape, who took it with an air of resignation that said it was not the first time. Harry was deep in a fantasy about Snape in an apron and nothing else when Tobias spoke beside him.

"I know what you are," he said. He nodded toward Snape, elbows deep in suds. "The boy was that way too. Knew it from the first." He exhaled heavily. "Blokes like me think you lot have it so good. Wave a wand and all your troubles disappear. Not like that though, is it?"

"No, sir, it's not like that at all," Harry replied, thinking that this might be the closest he got to Tobias's stated approval to keep seeing his son.

He thanked his hosts when it was time to take his leave. To his surprise, Snape reached for a jacket. "I'm going to see Harry home. Might be late getting back. Lock up, I have the key," he said.

"Or might be morning," Harry said in a voice so low only Snape would hear. 

Snape ignored him until they were out the door, turning up a dark alley where Snape grabbed his arm to Apparate to Islington. "If you still have spells on your home intended to kill me, I would appreciate a warning."

"Since you're supposed to be dead, I didn't bother with them," retorted Harry, bracing himself for the twisting tug that put them at Grimmauld Place. The house was cleaner than the last time Snape had been there, but full restoration was a project that was going to take many years, and Harry wasn't sure what he was going to do with several of the now-empty rooms. "I don't suppose you need the full tour?" he asked Snape.

"Do you have any forbidden artifacts that have been hidden from me by the Fidelius charm?" Fishing out the chain around his neck, Snape peered at the tiny mirror. "I'm not detecting any, but I will be looking."

"You'd better look in my bedroom -- it's where I spend the most time." Grinning, Harry took his hand, tugging him upstairs. He had a couple of magical sex toys in a drawer, and some self-warming lube from a discreet shop in Knockturn Alley, but Harry didn't think it contained anything illegal. "I've never actually taken another man there. It's sort of my sanctuary."

Snape glanced at him sharply. "Perhaps it would be better to wait. This is very new..."

"Except I've been thinking about it for a really long time," Harry cut him off. "Look, I know it's new. And I know you're going to tell me I might just be relieved that you're not dead, or something. But I've been thinking about it for a _really_ long time. And I owe you my life a bunch of times over, so even if we don't work out, I'm not going to be sorry."

"You might be disappointed," Snape said, though his eyes seemed to glitter with the memory of what he and Harry had already shared. 

"Or you might," Harry agreed, "but we won't know until we try. Loads and loads of times." Boldly he stepped closer, hoping Snape would put his arms around him. Snape's arms went around him at once. "We might have to try with more spankings. Sometimes with restraints. Or -- " He grinned, "I have a vivid imagination where you're concerned." He wrapped his arms around Snape's waist, bringing them closer. "But tonight I just want you. Any way you like."

They stood like that for a moment before Snape let out a groan and brought his mouth down to Harry's. Hands pulled at his shirt, tugging it off. "Don't go off in your trousers again or you won't get a second chance," Snape said, voice roughened by the breathlessness of the kiss. 

"Oh fuck, if you say 'go off' again, I will," Harry said, tugging him toward the bed. 

"Undress me," Snape commanded and Harry was eager to obey. He tugged at the buttons, thinking to himself that even in Muggle clothing, Snape still wore too many of them. He practically popped one off, and Snape growled, "As always, you are too impatient."

"I waited my whole adult life!" Harry let himself growl a bit too. "I think I've been very patient. I haven't used a single spell, let alone a forbidden one."

Relenting, Snape pressed closer as his shirt flew open. "Let me sit so you can take my trousers off." With a grin, Harry slid to his knees, beginning with Snape's shoes, which also had unnecessary fussy fasteners. Holding out a foot, Snape asked, "What if I get used to having you serve me like this?"

Showily, Harry removed the shoe, then the sock, licking his lips. "What if it turns out I like serving?" He slid a hand up Snape's leg beneath the trouser leg. "I don't have a lot of experience at it, but I'm willing to learn. Do you have a lot of experience being served?"

While Harry removed the other shoe, Snape moved his bare foot between his thighs, brushing toes over the bulge in them. "None at all, in this sense. I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy it."

Bucking his hips helplessly, Harry moaned as he tugged Snape's trousers down, rubbing his cheek against Snape's thigh. "So do I." 

He felt Snape's fingers slide through his hair, pressing his face in closer for a moment before slipping away. Lifting the Miscreant Mirror and its chain over his head, Snape said, "Take your clothes off and let me see you." He set the pendant down on the table by the bed, the chain pooling around it.

Slowly, Harry pulled back to stand, tugging his shirt over his head while doing so. He wasn't really in Quidditch shape and he hadn't had any sun in a long time. Still, Snape leaned back in his elbows to watch in obvious pleasure. "Will it serve?" Harry asked him, unfastening his jeans and pushing them down over his hips.

Snape was tugging off his pants. He gestured at his cock. "I would think that would already be obvious."

Grinning, Harry tossed aside his underwear, showing off his own hard cock. "That might just be because you haven't had any in a while."

"I was a teacher in a boarding school, I got used to not having any." With effort, it seemed, Snape pulled his gaze away from Harry's cock to look at his face. "I never expected you to show any interest in me."

Grinning, Harry sat on the bed. "Then you don't think I'm the worst student you ever had?" He took a deep breath. "I'm a little nervous. You didn't like me much, then. You thought I was arrogant, and overconfident." He didn't feel overconfident now. 

"Neither of us is what we were at Hogwarts." Snape was smirking in a somewhat familiar manner, but more intimate, as though they were sharing a private joke. "If I thought you were irredeemable, we wouldn't both be naked."

"Then can I kiss you?" Harry pressed closer as Snape reached an arm around him, a bit awkwardly because of their positions, and leaned up, pressing his mouth to Snape's a bit too fast, crushing their lips together. He thought he'd get another lecture about impatience, but Snape grabbed him firmly and pulled him in, his mouth opening in invitation. Very enthusiastically, Harry slid his arms around Snape's waist, tilting his face to find the best angle while Snape's fingers again pushed into his hair. Their noses bumped and Harry huffed a laugh. "Tell me what you want me to do."

Licking his lips, Snape readjusted them in the bed so his head was closer to the pillows. "You can serve me by giving me the hottest fuck of my life."

Groaning again, Harry lay back in what he hoped was an inviting manner. "You can fuck me just like this!" But Snape slowly shook his head and Harry thought he'd missed some cue about serving. "Or any way you want," he added quickly. "Or I could suck you off. Or use my hands. Or, I don't really know if it's what you like but I have a couple of toys in that drawer..."

Scooting back on the pillows, Snape shook his head again. "I want you to use that very hard cock to fuck me, Potter."

"You do?" Harry practically squeaked in surprise. "I mean -- " He could tell that Snape was barely refraining from rolling his eyes, so instead he said what he had wanted to say in the first place. "I mean, yes, sir!" With another breathless moan, he reached over Snape to yank open the drawer with the lube, practically crushing Snape's thigh with his knee in the process and pulling the drawer too hard, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Snape, who had grunted when Harry crushed him, peered over, probably to make sure Harry hadn't broken the Miscreant Mirror in his haste. The pendant still lay on top of the table, not giving off any sign that Harry could see that he was doing anything particularly wicked. Then he realized that Snape was looking down at the mess on the floor. "You do have an interesting collection there. I shall remember that for the future."

Blushing, Harry dove down to grab the lube from the pile, practically falling off the bed in the process. "Sorry! I'm usually not this clumsy. I told you I was a little nervous." He reminded himself that there was no need to rush, they had all night, and took a deep breath. "Usually people fall all over themselves to serve me. Not even me -- to serve the Chosen One."

Unexpectedly, Snape's fingers brushed over his cheek. "You are not the Chosen One to me," he muttered. "You are a miscreant -- my miscreant."

Somehow it was a relief to be reminded that Snape didn't expect him to be particularly brilliant or gifted or good. With a happy sigh, Harry kissed his palm. "I've been trying not to be a miscreant, except you came back because I was." He was careful not to squeeze out too much lube and make even more of a mess.

Snape trailed a finger over his lips as he bent his knees up for Harry's fingers. "I came back so you wouldn't misbehave just to get my attention. I know it crossed your mind." 

Catching his breath, Harry slid his fingers behind Snape's balls, pressing against the pucker, easing a slippery fingertip inside. "Of course I thought about it. What would you have done if I did?"

Snape's soft chuckle turned into a groan. "Resorted to sterner, less pleasurable methods of keeping you in line." 

Fervently, Harry nodded again, sliding the finger deep inside him. "This is a really good method of -- wait, you aren't only doing this to keep me in line?"

At once Snape's brows pulled together. "Would it not be obvious even to a very thick student that I want to be with you? Don't make me regret it." 

That sounded just like the Snape Harry remembered, and he grinned a little as he worked a second finger in, hoping he wasn't rushing in his enthusiasm. "I don't want you to regret anything," he told Snape.

"I could say the same. You could have your pick of witches or wizards. Or Muggles, if your tastes run that way -- " 

Harry must have been doing something right because Snape cut himself off with a grunt, arching into the pillows. "You're the one I've been thinking about since...well, a long time." He stretched Snape carefully, watching his face.

"And if I admit you have been in my thoughts? Not just because of that." Snape gestured at the bedside table where the pendant lay. With a breathless moan, Harry rubbed his cock against Snape's thigh in answer. "Come here, then, I'm ready," added Snape gruffly.

With another groan, Harry shifted over Snape. "I hope I'm not too ready." He rubbed his cock against him, pressing in slowly.

Snape's hands slid around his waist as he angled himself for a better position. "That's it -- " he groaned. "Keep going."

Harry doubted he could have stopped unless Snape performed an Imperius Curse on him, and maybe not even then. Quivering, he thrust in deep. "Oh this is -- " He fumbled for Snape's cock. "So good!" In answer, Snape pressed his knees in, spurring Harry on, not, he hoped, a little too roughly. His hand moved as he sped up his movements. "Is this -- not too fast -- "

Snape's groan did not seem to express any discomfort. He was moving with Harry. "More! Faster!"

That made Harry more confident, though he also knew that, being younger and being very aroused, he probably had less stamina. "We're good together!" he gasped. Snape's eyes glittered, watching him as he thrust. "Wanted to be what you needed!" Shuddering, Harry decided he had better stop talking because it was too hard to focus on talking, fucking, and not coming all at once.

Snape's hips pushed off the bed to meet his thrusts again and again. "This is exactly what I need!" Then he convulsed for a long moment, and while Harry tugged feverishly on his cock, he came with a guttural shout.

That was more than Harry could withstand. With a hard shudder, he thrust in, wailing and spurting inside Snape. He was vaguely aware of Snape's eyes fluttering open, of Snape exhaling deeply, but it took several moments before he caught his breath to speak.

"Oh -- fuck -- "

Snape made a faint clucking noise at the language, but his legs relaxed around Harry, fingers uncurling slowly. "Definitely redeemable," he muttered.

"We should do it again a few times so you can be sure." Grinning, Harry tried not to pant right in his face.

Smirking, Snape told him, "You may have to wait until I've recovered. Even I don't have a potion for that."

With a breathless laugh, Harry slid out of him, flopping at his side. "I didn't mean right now. Even I'm not that young!"

Snape shifted and for a moment Harry feared that he was about to get up, throw his clothes on, and leave, but he only turned, adjusting his chest so he could turn toward Harry. "We may have to try some of those other things you mentioned to make sure we are equally as compatible with those."

At that moment Harry's thoughts were too scattered to remember what he'd mentioned. "You mean you on top? Because I really want to do it with you on top," he said.

"Oh, yes, that, and you on top riding me, and many other positions." Snape glanced toward the direction of the table where the lube had been before Harry had knocked everything all over the floor. "You said something about toys?"

"Just some dildos and stuff. And only ever by myself. I always felt kind of -- you know, I didn't want anyone telling the _Quibbler_ that the Chosen One was kinky."

With a snort, Snape assured him, "You may rest assured I will not be revealing any intimate details to the press. Especially since no one knows I'm alive yet."

"I thought I might be safe with you." Harry smiled. "You said 'yet'."

Exhaling, Snape extended an arm to pillow under his head. "Would you prefer that I remain hidden?"

Harry shook his head. "The opposite." Then, thinking about the fences Snape obviously had mended with his Muggle family, he added, "I mean, you should do what you think is the right thing. I'm not the only one who'd be glad to see you back. But I don't want you to ruin things with your father."

"I had not intended for us to live in a council house with thin walls. You’re not the only one who ever performed a silencing charm in the loo." Blushing, Harry realized that Snape must have known what he'd done that first day. "But I don't intend to cut ties with them," Snape continued. "You may be subjected to more of Bess's cooking."

"Hey! I liked her cooking. It's better than -- " Harry had almost said _Hermione's_ when he caught himself. He was going to have so much to explain to her, soon. " -- than mine," he finished. "I get takeaway too often, anyway."

"I suppose that unless you intend to come into hiding with me, I will have to reveal myself eventually." Smirking, Snape added, "It will be easier to keep an eye on you that way."

Since Snape did not seem to be in any hurry to leave, Harry wriggled closer. "I didn't mean to rush you. I don't even know if you have a job." Snape's fingers trailed idly over his belly. "Or the details of how you survived." The fingers felt good. Harry felt himself relaxing, then to his horror, just as Snape was starting to speak, he yawned loudly, covering his mouth a second too late. "Sorry!"

Fortunately Snape didn't look offended. In fact, his eyes were half-closed as well. "A tale for a later time," he murmured. "My recovery was...not without difficulties." Harry reached up to touch the scar on his throat, which wasn't as big as Harry would have expected from an attack by a giant snake. "I don't want to think about the past when for the first time in a long time I might have a future."

"Might?" Harry lifted his head. Snape's mouth brushed over his.

"Do."

"You'd better." Though he was slowly falling asleep, Harry grinned. "Don't make me do anything Unforgivable."

"I will always know if you do." There was no real sharpness in Snape's tone, though the fingers briefly stopped their comforting movement on Harry's skin. "Your days as a Miscreant are over."

"Then you aren't going to send me to Azkaban?" asked Harry, snuggling closer.

"I suppose..." He felt Snape huff a laugh in his hair. "I shall have to forgive you."

**Author's Note:**

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